


And His Eyes Are Ice

by IrisNicole



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: Different Hyrule Universe, F/M, Reader-Insert, non-canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-03
Updated: 2016-06-26
Packaged: 2018-07-12 01:36:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7079263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IrisNicole/pseuds/IrisNicole
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Dark Link x Reader) (Y/N) (F/N) had her own life to worry about. It wasn’t that she was doomed or anything of that nature. No, nothing so terrible or otherwise exciting like a dangerous quest or curse. Instead, she was destined to live a life so unvaried and dull that she was sure her neighbor’s cat had more adventures than she did...that is, until she found a mysterious stranger passed out in front of her home. Was this a bad idea? Probably. Could this guy be a monster of some sort? Probably. But his face looked strangely familiar...and she couldn’t just let him die. “Alright...I’m sorry for anything that’s about to happen,” she called out to him, waiting for a response and receiving none.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic does not take place during any specific Zelda timeline.

_Ever since birth, he was destined for something that was quite out of his reach to change. His future, his success, they were all determined by something that he couldn’t control, or so he thought. Actually, one could argue that it wasn’t his birth that would spell out disaster for him, but rather the birth of another boy. He didn’t have many memories of his past life, except for the short flashes of pictures from his mind on occasion, but what he could remember was the emotion that took up most of what little recollection he had…_

_Anger._

_Anger directed toward his master, his enemy, and all those who blinked, breathed, and had a heart still beating in their chests._

_He had been feeling it for awhile now, that sense of awakening. There was a gentle rage simmering inside him, and it was getting stronger by the day. He decided to hold it close to him for as long he could--he would nurture it and let it grow. He won’t let anyone take it away from him, but as the days past, he feels pressure within his empty chest. It was his rocket fuel and finally, he’s had enough. He can feel it down to his very core--it was time. He would not only climb mountains...he will move them, too._

* * *

“(Y/n), Dear! We’ve just closed the shop.” You jumped from your hunched position on the highchair. Despite the thick, wooden door that separated the main store from the backroom, Ms. Fairfax’s aristocratic voice resonated clearly in your ears, “why don’t you come out with us this time?”

How long had you been sitting there? You distinctly remembered glancing out the window this morning to find that the sun had yet to rise over the bakery across the street, but now that you looked again, you were surprised to see that only the last rays of sunshine for the day were visible.

Suddenly, a flurry of bright colors and lively patterns brought you away from your astonishment. “Are you feeling alright, (Y/n)?” Ms. Fairfax questioned, taking no time to look over your form with her calculating eyes, “Did you catch something?”

“I’m fine, really, just a little stiff,” you stated, emphasizing your declaration with a few twists. Ms. Fairfax seemed only mildly relieved and still somewhat suspicious, but with a quick shrug of her shoulders, she was off to the door. For a moment, you imagined the elder woman as a miniature hurricane of colors, weaving and spinning her way through the back room with a lack of elegance in her steps as she waddled to a standstill.

“So are you coming with us?” The woman was all business at this point, a single eyebrow set high on her forehead.

“No, I really should finish this,” you voiced before gesturing to the dress on your left. “I’ll lock up once I’m done.”

“Well, suit yourself...careful on your way home, Dear.” Ms. Fairfax smiled gently, turning quickly on her heel to round up a few of the boutique’s workers, who were currently fretting over their hair. You wouldn’t blame them though...tonight was pretty special.

You planted yourself back on the high chair and grabbed your needle to prepare for a few more minutes of patchwork. As if on cue, the shop grew quiet, and you were left to work in peace.

_Push, stitch, pull. Push, stitch, pull._

You were rather deft with the needle, which was the main reason why you spent your days locked up in the back of the store sewing dresses. Honestly, you felt that this would explain your reserved character… Well, you were rather practical and shy to begin with, so the extra hours spent alone only added to the tortures of your nature.

“But I don’t mind,” you whispered quietly to yourself.

_Push, stitch, pull. Push, stitch, pull._

Shrill cheers erupted from outside of the shop, your eyes peeking through the glass to spot the people of Castle Town passing by. The women were all dressed in their finest clothes, and the men appeared fresh with their slacks and loafers. A tiny chuckle escaped your lips when a toddler plopped himself down on the sidewalk, his mother quick to snatch him up before he could get too dirty.

Today, indeed, was a special day.

The knights of Hyrule were returning home at this moment in celebration. Their recent battle against a neighboring kingdom had resulted in victory and the six month war that had broken out was over.

_Push, stitch, pull. Push, stitch, pull._

You didn’t know anyone who was returning home, much less anyone at all here at Castle Town. You had just moved here recently to escape some old memories from your hometown. So why come here? Well, after a few exchanges between you and your best friend, Katherine, she had convinced you that this place was perfect for a new beginning.

_Push, stitch-._

Oh.

You carefully watched as the small drop of blood glided down your fingernail. That was rather uncharacteristic of you...you’ve _never_ pricked yourself before.

Well, your fingers were feeling a bit numb.

A rumble from your stomach shoved your thoughts away as you stood up to put the dresses up and grab a bandage. The back room was cluttered with many boxes full of intricately designed fabrics and jewelry, so you had to do your typical dance across the floor in order to reach the door. After blowing out the candles, you shut the door to greet an ominously quiet shop.

“She forgot to flip the sign again…” you mumbled, a tiny smile flitting over your features as you turned the “CLOSED” sign over. _Fairfax’s Boutique_ read sweetly in cursive on the front of the store’s window, but with a quick peek outside, no one appeared to care about the shop at all, which wasn’t a big surprise.

After dusting and removing the apron from your hips, you took a few moments to lock all the main entrances and blow out the candles that remained. The shop was illuminated by the moon alone, and after a quick glance in the mirror, you were on your way.

Tonight was especially windy it seemed, but that didn’t hinder any form of festivities in any way. You were keenly aware of the shoving hands and prodding arms of all the people on the street, almost like a tidal wave that threatened to swallow up a lone girl. The sharp scent of poppies assaulted your nostrils, a heady smell, not so different from the plants sewn onto the autumn bonnets that would be shipped in a few months time. But the one detail that caught your attention was the noise coming from the main square.

Off to your right, you could hear boots marching, and with a quick glance, you were able to confirm your suspicions. The knights of Hyrule were marching through the crowd, thousands of poppies littering the ground as the citizens threw them with great enthusiasm. You were somewhat drawn toward the throng of people, but it was time for you to head on home. Your feet carried you to the left and deeper into the alley.

Your trip home wasn’t long, but it felt like a ten-mile trek when you had to push through a wall of women who were busy attempting to catch the affections of the returning soldiers. You had particularly noticed how occupied the bars were tonight, but paid no attention to it. Just outside of the main entrance to Castle Town was your sparkling and dazzling one-story home along with the other commoners who were either too young, too poor, too unlucky, or all three to own a home within the city…

Right as you passed through the gate, you had noticed that the guards who were typically stationed outside were nowhere to be seen. “Figures…” you whispered, remembering shortly afterward that you had seen the sentinels peculiarly posted outside of one of the bars.

At first, the dirt road was littered with many couples and families, but the further you traveled, the less activity there was. Your house was a little further out than most others, which you honestly didn’t mind because it meant quieter nights and relaxing days. Your neighbors were about a quarter of a mile away, but that normally didn’t stop them from coming to visit you every so often.

Off in the distance you could see the outline of your residence, but what struck you odd was the dark figure that loomed down the road. Your (e/c) eyes darted behind you to see if anyone else had noticed this somewhat frightening, black shape, but you shrugged it off when the configuration distinctly resembled a person. Considering how dark it was and the direction the man or woman was coming from, you would have thought they would have carried a lamp with them.

As you drew closer, you noticed that this person was limping rather dramatically, one of his arms dangling lifelessly at his side. The longer you stared at him, the more features you were able to pick out. He was dressed in all black, sporting a tunic and hat that gave you a short sense of déjà vu. Maybe it was just the lighting, but his face was the color of charcoal black, along with his hair. Perhaps what startled you the most was the pair of crimson eyes that bore deeply into your own, pain evident in his form.

You wondered if you should just turn around and walk away as fast as you could. Just staring at this guy was giving you the chills...but he did seem awfully wounded. Before you could decide to turn around though, you were already sprinting toward the demonic man.

Honest to Nayru, you had no idea what the hell you were doing. In the last few seconds, the guy had just _face-planted_ right into the dirt, not even twitching afterward. How did you know he wasn’t faking it? What if he was actually a demon who preyed on young women by luring them in with false injury? Geez, you’re such an idiot.

But after a couple pokes with a stick and a quick summation of the weapons he carried on him, you decided that your pessimism was unnecessary and the man was too deep in unconsciousness to notice anything. Ultimately, he was unable to harm you.

“HELP!” You cried out quickly, standing up swiftly to shout down the street. There was no one nearby, and you didn’t want to leave the guy to bleed out. “We need a doctor!” But the longer you stood there, the longer silence greeted you. You glanced back down to the body, taking note of his large form. There was **no way** you would be able to drag him to the gates of Castle Town-.

“Eeek!” A not-so attractive screech flooded from your lips when the demon/traveler’s skin started to transition from black to tan. You bent down to peek at his face, abandoning your stick to use your fingers to push his bangs away from his eyes.

Ok, so they were closed. But as you stared a little longer at his now normal-looking face, you saw that his hair had also shifted to a dark, ashy gray color rather than the (you guessed it) ebony color.

Was he human? You had no idea; however, your concern for him was too much. You were unable to chase away that haunting look of agony he shot you just before passing out, so with that thought in mind, you proceeded to lift his limp body from the ground.

Was this a bad idea? Probably.

Could this guy be a monster of some sort? Probably.

But his face looked strangely familiar...and you couldn’t just let him _die_. Based on his wounds, he wouldn’t make it long out in the cold. You weren’t much of a doctor, but you knew some things about medical care, and your house had plenty of supplies. If anything, this guy was pretty attractive (you know, other than the fact that his skin was charcoal a few moments ago)...

With all of your might, you attempted to pick up as much of his weight as you could. A few weird grunts later, you decided to remove some of his gear before trying again. You first removed the complexly designed shield from his back before flipping him over and unbuckling the sheath from his chest. It was strange...the scabbard was empty and there was no sword nearby. You then removed the utility belt from his waist, your arms failing as you slowly tugged the substantially large equipment away from his form.

“Alright...I’m sorry for anything that’s about to happen,” you called out to him, waiting for a response and receiving none. You grabbed his bicep and heaved it onto your shoulder, crying out when only half of his weight was forced onto your back. He was significantly taller than you had expected with a medium build and strong physique, but if you could just shimmy your way toward your place…

It took you quite some time to kick open the wooden door, but not as long as it took you to drag the man’s lifeless body into your yard. All his possessions were still sitting out in the street; however, you could just get those later. After taking a few deep breaths, you heaved yourself and the extra weight into your house, wincing when you accidently hit the guy’s (most likely broken) arm against the door frame.

You just hoped he wouldn’t remember anything when he wakes up.

With some more groaning and pulling, you were somehow able to sit him down at the table in the kitchen. “Now don’t go anywhere, I’ll be right back,” you muttered with exhaustion. Your legs felt like jelly, and you were sure you pulled a muscle or two in your back. Despite the pain, you pushed yourself to leave the house and collect the gear you had left in the road, making several trips. By the time you had settled in finally, the silver-haired person was slumped back on the chair, the light now illuminating the blood stained on his tunic.

 _“Was that his blood? Or someone else’s?”_ You shoved the thought away and distracted yourself with dragging him into your bedroom. After a few moments and another doorway mishap, you had FINALLY situated him in a comfortable position. He looked rather peaceful in his sleep, but you couldn’t brush away the image of his charcoal skin. At least he looked normal now...

With a quick nod, you stripped his feet and hands, revealing dark blemishes on his right arm and ankle. You weren’t exactly willing to remove too much of his clothing, you know, considering that he was a complete stranger. But on the left side of his tunic was a rather sizable laceration. He must had been in a fight recently based on the number of cuts on his uniform.

With steady hands, you proceeded to remove the dark fabric from his upper torso. A set of chainmail and an undershirt lied underneath, which those were both simple to remove. As soon as you set your eyes upon his torso, you had to look away. The skin was covered in cicatrices and discolorations--probably bruises from a boot. His chest was doused in dried blood, but the worst was the fresh lesion on his left side. It didn’t look infected, but it wouldn’t take long for disease to take over. His left arm also wasn’t looking too good...your assumption was incorrect, for it wasn’t broken, but the muscle in his shoulder was shredded to pieces.

For the next two hours, you spent all of your time working on this traveler. His ankle was sprained, so that was an easy fix, and luckily the cut on his side wasn’t _too_ deep; however, the slash in his deltoid muscle looked absolutely horrid. Whoever he got in a fight with must had been really strong to dig so deep into the muscle.

After cleaning up all of the blood, you applied some healing remedies to the cuts before stitching up the wounds. He must had lost too much blood, but in the end, there wasn’t really much you could do. You didn’t have work tomorrow, so the least you could do was stop by the doctor’s office and request that he visit your home whenever he can.

A ferocious growl greeted your ears, reminding you that you had yet to eat today. With all of the time you spent in the shop and your recent distraction, thoughts of hunger were shoved away-.

Uh-oh.

You stared closely at the man’s bare chest, waiting for it to rise and fall and indicate his vitality. There were no signs of breathing.

Your heart felt like it was ready to leap out of your throat. Your face immediately dove forward, and with a small ear pressed close to his heart, you confirmed that you couldn’t hear a single beat. You watched his eyes, half-expecting them to open, but after a few seconds, the guy started to breathe again.

“That’s weird…” you mumbled, the smell of peroxide occupying your nose. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t hear any form of thumping in his chest. At least he was breathing...that meant he was alive, right?

You sat with him for a few extra minutes before picking up your chair to return it to the dining table. You also picked up his tunic and armor along the way, deciding to wash it as soon as you could tomorrow before fixing up the garment.

Your feet carried you outside of the room, but your eyes remained on the handsome face resting quietly on the bed. What drove you out of your shell to do something as wild as this? It wasn’t like you were lonely or anything. You had Katherine and that was good enough for you. Maybe it was the familiarity of his face or the sense of adventure you got from seeing him…but you figured it just had to do with impulse.

After eating a hearty meal of cheese and dried meat, you set out on building a makeshift cot in the corner of your tiny living room. You didn’t have much in your home, but you really didn’t need anything.

With droopy eyes, you placed yourself in the depths of the blankets, wrapping your legs tightly within the cotton. Several bangs jolted you out of semi-unconsciousness and reminded you of the celebration that was still going on in town. You needed to see Katherine tomorrow and pick up some groceries…

With those thoughts in mind, you fell into a deep slumber.


	2. Chapter 2

The sun was well into the sky by the time you left your home the next morning. After changing the traveler’s bandages and checking his stitches, you took the opportunity to begin the wash a little earlier than usual. Now that all of your clothes (and what little bit of his clothes you had to wash) were drying on the line, it was time to set out for the market. You weren’t nervous about leaving the mysterious stranger in your home because, let’s be honest, it could be a few days before he wakes up. You took your usual route through the gates, idly noting the guards who stood with spears pointed to the sky outside of Castle Town. 

You hadn’t much money nowadays, but it didn’t take a lot to provide for just one. You had an extra mouth to feed though, that is, if your guest planned on waking up soon. Since the war had just ended recently, you figured prices would lower to their original values; one could only hope…

The streets were rather crowded today, which you expected. Many of the knights who returned yesterday were at home with their families; however, most of them were now roaming the streets or crowding the bakeries. They all looked tired, but there was a certain vibrant appeal in their eyes, most likely coming from their satisfaction of standing on familiar soil. The idea brought a small smile to your lips.

Your (h/c) hair fell gently into your eyes as you walked up to the vegetable and produce stands. You brushed it aside, noting ruefully the thin, (s/c) fingers belonging to yourself and the bandage wrapped around your index finger. Maybe you should get some potatoes...you had some cream of mushroom that would fit well for potato soup. Helping yourself to the open crates, you picked out the larger roots under the watchful eye of the shopkeeper. 

The morning air was fresh and carried many smells from baking bread to boxes of soap to sweat from working hands. “How much?” you asked. Your voice was rarely used these days at a tone higher than a loud whisper. You did tend to talk to yourself at times, but typically in quiet murmurs so no one can hear. It had a certain soft cadence to it that made calculating shopkeepers regard you warmly, though.

“About five rupees a piece, Ma’am.” The man stroked his great brown moustache as he accepted the money and smiled at you before turning the other way to help another customer. You showed no sign of discomfort with the price, knowing that the inflation will fall shortly, but wishing that it had fallen sooner. You then dropped your purchase into your shopping basket and hurried on to several other stores. 

Your visit to these stores only lasted for a short period of time, and eventually, your basket was piled high with plenty of food to last the week. Your next stop was to visit Katherine at her workplace...noon had just passed, so she should be on break. You stuck close to the walls, avoiding as many bodies as you could. Eleven months of weaving through crowds did you well, and the restaurant your best friend worked at was just in sight. 

You wanted to talk with her for the sake of just seeing her. The many hours you spent as a seamstress kept you occupied and longing to chat with your childhood friend, and summer was always the busiest season of the year at the restaurant. Now that autumn was quickly approaching, you felt entitled to finding more time to spend with Katherine. 

The two of you both grew up in a dowdy--yet still fairly interesting--village located on the borders of Lake Hylia. Unlike Hyrule’s capital city, the village could be easily overlooked by visiting foreign tourists. Despite lackluster publicity though, it could still boast about several things. 

While a clear view of the plains and hills of the infamous Hyrule Field wasn’t much to brag about, the people of her hometown were blessed with the gorgeous waters of Lake Hylia. One would think more tourists would visit, but because of the town’s poor road networking and location there was no main connection between it and the stunning attraction about a mile down the hillside. 

You had always thought the village was a nice breath of fresh air in comparison to the compacted and heated streets of Castle Town, but Katherine felt differently about it. She couldn’t stand the absence of mystery and thrills in your hometown. The big city was like a giant melting pot, a multicultural place that would allow her to learn from other customs. She enjoyed the idea of being able to turn the corner and find something new everyday with no form of incessance. Because of Castle Town’s high population density, there were plenty more social activities for one to attend, and with that in mind, Katherine left at the age of 16 in an attempt to free herself and make it big as a performer, which she had yet to succeed in...

No, it wasn’t like she was trying to abandon you or anything! You completely understood her decision, and wished her luck. There was a time when even you wanted to go with her, but you were too young and still had a family to look after. Considering that you were glued hip to hip for the first half of your lives, you made sure to keep in touch with her and wrote letters every month for the next three years. It wasn’t until your parents had passed away that you left in an attempt to abandon the sad memories that loomed in every corner of your hometown. Katherine recommended moving to Castle Town and promised you a job, which was one of the main reasons why you came, other than being close to her, of course… 

With measured steps, careful not to get stepped on by the large crowd in front of the Mansfield’s Family Restaurant, you approached. Your grip on your basket with its meager contents was vice-like, your knuckles white as you tried to squeeze through like a shadowy wisp. There was a sufficient amount of soldiers present, most likely searching for young and single girls to accompany them now that the war was over. None of the knights heeded you, but rather, one girl in particular who was seated by the window with a cup of tea. 

As if she could sense you, her eyes--the bluish-steel of a midwinter sky--flitted in your direction, completely ignoring all others who attempted to capture her attention. 

“(Y/n)!” She cried, scooting out of the old booth to leap gracefully toward you. A grin was plastered clearly across your features, something you hadn’t done in what felt like forever. The girl tightened her arms to encompass you in a spine-crushing hug. The smell of hyacinths fluttered to your nose. 

“How are you?” 

“I’m great now that you’re here! What a lovely surprise! Is there something you need?” She guided you with ease to her booth, setting you down on one side before taking a seat across from you. Her eyes danced with zeal, and no signs of fabrication were present. It saddened you to hear her ask her question…you needed to spend more time with her.

“I can’t surprise my best friend with a visit every once in awhile?” A glee-filled shriek erupted from her lips as the girl wrapped her thin and dainty arms around your neck once more. The position was awkward, and people were staring, but you knew Katherine had to get all of her elation out first before she could settle down. 

After what felt like a minute of squeezing, Katherine finally released you and plopped down in her seat. “Do you want something to eat? We have a special going on today-.”

“Hey, Kitty!” 

“Hi, Daran!” Katherine, or “Kitty” as she was known to everyone else, easily replied and waved sweetly to the heir of the hat shop across the street. A light blush dusted his pale cheeks before he left the restaurant to return home. “Anyway, Valeria is in town this weekend, and she’s in the back making up some of her famed chicken pot pies. Since you’re such a good friend, I’m about eighty-five percent sure she’ll make one for you for free. Why eighty-five? Well, you remember that time when I spilled orange juice on her new cardigan a few months ago? Yea, you can imagine how THAT must’ve went...I do know that you’re a big fan of her cooking though..! Right? I mean, you’ve never turned anything down-” 

And Katherine’s words continued to flood out of her mouth like a river of expressions. You listened carefully to what she had say, never interrupting the older girl, but always nodding your head at appropriate times. 

If one couldn’t tell by now, you and Katherine were two completely different people: black and white, hot and cold, pretty and plain. She was rather sociable and perceptive of others’ feelings, often spoiled by her habits of being perverse and eccentric. Few knew the true Katherine like yourself, but if nothing else, people knew her for her beauty and selflessness.

“Why don’t we talk a walk outside?” 

After you turned down her offers of food, she was quick to change the subject. The two of you stepped outside to embrace the warm glow of the sun, dodging Katherine’s numerous admirers in the process. Your friend didn’t ignore them completely, for she was homely and kind to all. 

Nobody was perfect though, and Katherine has had some of her “moments” in the past; her extreme nature and naivety have gotten her into troubling situations before, but you were always there to pull her out of these problems before things could end up in the gutter.

“So anything new recently?” She asked, silently waving at a group of aged women with hoary hair. For a moment, the image of your “visitor” flashed in your eyes. Should you tell her about him? Knowing Katherine, she would probably freak out and chastise you for bringing a stranger in your home and trying to play doctor when the only real medical practice you’ve received was from your late father. 

But you’ve  _ never  _ hid anything from Katherine in the past...you decided to tell the truth:

“No, not really…” 

Wait, you didn’t want to say that!

“C’mon! You better not be spending too much time in the back of that dress shop, (y/n). You know that’s not good for you!”

“I know, it’s just easy to get lost in my job sometimes…” 

Just tell her! It wasn’t like she would hate you for it. You normally counted on her companionship whenever you needed help.

“If I didn’t have to go back and work in five minutes, I would take you out to the stables!” Her laugh rang in your ears as she reminded you of what happened the last time she took you to the petting zoo. She then began to reminisce on the past, giggling like a mad woman after every sentence. 

But on the inside, you were dying. 

“Hey, Katherine?” You called out to her almost inaudibly.

“Yes?” Somehow, she was still able to hear you.

You both stood motionless, the people of Castle Town swerving around you--some with annoyance and others without a care. You looked down into the sky blue eyes of your best friend and took note of how small and frail her form appeared to be. Your heart leapt erratically in your chest as your mouth opened and closed, slightly resembling a fish out of water. 

_ Say it. _

“I…”

_ Just say it. _

“Nevermind,” you sighed out, eyes no longer capable holding contact. Katherine narrowed her orbs slightly, and after a few more moments of standing around, she grabbed your hand and pulled you back to the restaurant.

“That’s alright!” She said, still facing forward so you couldn’t see her face; however, her words sounded off, as though they were lacking the usual life she carried. “Just tell me whenever you’re ready.”

_ And so the truth comes out. _

You were too afraid to admit it in your own mind. The reason why you hadn’t seen Katherine in forever wasn’t because of how busy you were, but rather because of how terrified you were of losing her. Everything you said came out sounding hesitant, but when you were still young teenagers living back at home, you could always come out with all of your worries and fears. 

Katherine was just so popular and loved, idolized for her beauty and kindness, but you?

You were plain. Plain, old (y/n). That sense of companionship you once felt was faltering the more time you spent away from Katherine, but even when you were near her, your fears took over and your relationship was severed even more. 

Telling her about the stranger in your home was such a trivial matter...if you weren’t in public, you probably would’ve cried.

This was your worst fear: Separation. 

It had happened once after your parents died last year, but now Katherine was slipping through your awfully scanty fingers…  

***

Pitched in inky swirls of pinkish hues, the sky dyed the landscape shadowy purples and pale golds. Fingers of light struggled to hold onto the horizon; they quickly lost their grip on the edge of the world, finalizing the transition from day to night with their disappearance. Inky blue crawled over the border, obscuring the faint afterglow of sunlight but allowing the dim presence of twinkling remnants of distant souls to shine forth. Such stars gently gave way to the silvery translucence of the moon, and the pale arms burst forward from the surface to paint the scenery new colors of deep blues and pale grays.

You walked in the midst of a small field, deciding to take a different route home. The basket of groceries you held swung carelessly back and forth as you shuffled over and between carefully-tended plants. Seemingly undirected, you sauntered in the general direction you knew your home to be. Your memories of today’s events plagued your mind, but you always found a way to shove them to the back of your mind before anger could splay out in your limbs. You never let your sorrow consume you, but you were not afraid to grieve or shed some tears now and then either. You were smarter than to let such a silly idea like loneliness change your behavior and saw no reason to become angry. 

“Things will be better tomorrow,” you said to yourself. You watched your boots thoughtfully, and your eyes caught onto the drabby, gray dress that rushed forward with every movement of your legs. After you bid Katherine a farewell, she made you promise to come and visit her in three days time:

_ “I know how you feel, (y/n). I say that we go on a picnic together, just so then it’ll only be the two of us.” _

You smiled at this thought. Katherine was simply too good for you. You still needed to tell her about the events of the day before…

Speaking of which, you wondered how your strange, new visitor was holding up. It probably wasn’t a good idea for you to leave him on his own for a day since his wounds were fresh, but your journey to Castle Town was necessary. You had visited the town doctor--an irritable man with over fifty years of experience--and requested his presence for tomorrow. He wouldn’t be able to visit until the day after however, but you found no issues in this fact, just as long as he showed up in the evening. You had to work for the next few days, and you didn’t want the old fart searching through your house for a bottle of liquor or two. 

Your home was just up ahead, and your eyes immediately traveled to the line hanging in your backyard. The clothes flew gently with the nightly breeze, a slight chill running down your spine. 

Your feet grew heavy as you stepped up to your porch and allowed the door to swing open upon touch...strange, you thought you locked it this morning. Nevertheless, you turned the small knob to bolt the entrance anyway and shook your head at your carelessness.

The house was ominously quiet and practically pitch-black, but you were used to this setting. After depositing your shopping basket on the counter, you pulled out your handy-dandy match box and set about with lighting the candles in the room. Working your way from the kitchen to the living room, you lit all of the candles with ease, making sure to not burn yourself. Just as you lit the last candle and prepared to enter your bedroom, the candles in the kitchen blew out.

“But the windows aren’t open…” you murmured and returned to relight the tapers. Just as you finished illuminating the kitchen however, a sudden  _ whoosh!  _ blew in your ear. 

Your eyes widened incredulously at this. The candles in your living room had gone out as well. You didn’t want to move toward the darkened area, so you remained glued in your spot by the blaze of the thin candles. Your past, irrational fear of the dark was slowly clawing its way out of the deepest parts of your mind. You didn’t believe in superstitions, but even at a time like this, the idea of the boogeyman resurfaced… 

“How ridiculous.” Chasing away your childish fears, you stomped over to the living room, but didn’t relight the candles. Instead, you turned around and waited for the light in the kitchen to disappear.

With narrowed eyes, you called out to no one in particular, “are you gonna do it?” 

You waited and waited and waited…

No response.

You exhaled noisily through your nose, unaware of how long you had been holding your breath. Turning to the bedroom, your hand landed gently on the wooden door.

And then the candles in the kitchen were out again. 

Now you were scared. 

“You’re not very good at this game, are you?”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! My goodness, I’m so appreciative for the positive reception! It gives me butterflies knowing that I’m doing my job as a writer and pleasing the readers with some decent content (or at least I hope it’s decent, heh). To answer a question, I kind of know where I’m going with this, but I had such a hard time trying to decide how I should portray Dark Link, so I hope I met the standards T.T
> 
> As a reward for everyone, I made this chapter longer than usual, so yay! Once again, thank you to everyone who has read this far. It really means a lot to me, so please enjoy!

There was this deep, intense feeling. It dug deep into your stomach, clutching tightly as though your very  _ life _ depended on it. Your limbs were frozen in place, and the connection between your brain and body was severed by the oldest and strongest emotion that had driven many to insanity…

Fear.

Fear elicited mental and physiological reactions that compelled people to do things they otherwise would not do. Fear was based on a perception of impending doom or terrible outcome if one did not comply with certain commands. People would lie, steal, cheat, backstab, submit to sexual demands, and generally sell their souls out of fear.

“Don’t make a sound.” Several shaky breaths escaped your lips, and your spine went rigid when you felt something cool glide across the back of your neck. Hot breath cascaded down your ear, and the faint smell of blood nearly made you gag. Your eyes searched for a face to tie the voice to; however, all you could pinpoint was the open bag of gear that belonged to the traveler, which was sprawled in disarray across the floor… 

Oh.

With a swift shake of your head, you forced yourself to break out of your trance and spin around. You would be damned if you didn’t put up a fight, but despite your display of valor, the fight never started. Fingers wrapped on either side of your throat like a snake constricting around its prey, and for a moment, all you could see was the ceiling before a familiar set of ruby orbs took up your vision.

“I-Impossible…” you choked out, your fingers clawing at his arm. You could feel your windpipe slowly cave in when his gloved hand tightened in response. Oh goddesses...was this the end?

“What did I say?” he asked coolly before lifting his other arm to reveal a dagger the same shade as the night. “You know, you should be nicer to your guests, milady.” His voice sounded neutral in the fashion of a husky rumbling that rolled like quiet thunder through the room. You could sense a certain tension, but when coupled with your disbelief and fright, there wasn’t much to be seen.

Your eyes flitted downward to see that your “wounded” traveler was dressed in his threadbare tunic once more. How did you not see the tunic missing from the line outside? And how was he not bleeding out at this very moment? You had so many questions to ask, but the glint in his crimson eyes made your mouth go dry. The unspoken threat was enough to make you obedient. 

He watched you warily, and it wouldn’t take long before a self-satisfied smirk would break out on his lips. “Good girl…” he nearly purred, releasing you from his iron grip. You immediately fell to the floor like a bag of flesh and greeted the air with much enthusiasm. You swallowed the oxygen in huge gulps, but as soon as thoughts of escape flitted in your mind, the wicked man lifted you by your armpits. He carried you as though you were child, and you took the opportunity to squirm wildly in his grasp. 

Maybe that was a bad idea, for he flung you in the same chair he inadvertently sat in all those hours ago.

Listen…” he began, stepping forward to rest his hands firmly on the arms of your chair, “you seem like a nice girl and all, but I have only so much time before they come looking for me-” 

Your eyebrows pinched together at his statement.  _ They? Who were they? _

“-so if you answer all of my questions, I promise your death will be quick and painless.” His face was dangerously close to yours, almost as though he were begging you to retaliate. 

The deities must really hate you if  _ this _ was what you got for being a good person. 

_ “Never trust strangers…”  _ your mother’s voice echoed. 

_ “Help anyone in need…”  _ said your father immediately afterward. 

You shrank back silently in your chair, feeling like a tiny mouse who was unfortunate enough to be cornered by a cat...no-.

A snake.

“How long have I been here?” He asked before leaning forward ever so slightly. You watched as the hat he wore slipped toward you slightly to cover up some of his moonlit hair. You entertained the idea of slipping out under him, but after a quick once-over of his taut biceps, you thought better of it.

“Who are you running from?” Your voice came out sounding raspy and hoarse, and your throat felt like it could disintegrate in a matter of moments. You silently imagined what you neck must have looked like; you’ve always bruised easily-.

Your attention was brought back to the man in front of you, a fierce growl ripping through his body. He didn’t appear to appreciate your impudent question. You knew he was looking for information, but hell, so were you. If anything, after all you did for him, he owed you some answers as well.

His glowing, almond-shaped eyes narrowed considerably. “That’s strike one. How long have I been here?” The tone in his voice was dangerously low and threatening, and his skin appeared to be a shade darker than his usual beige tone. You had no desire to find out what happens after three strikes:

“A day. Although, I’m not sure how you’re walking with those wounds-” your sentence ended with an uncharacteristic ‘eep!’ when his dagger flew up to your face. It glinted clearly in the luminescence coming from the window, but with considerable patience, the man lowered his arm. 

“I didn’t ask for your comments, woman.” For a split second, he allowed his gaze to travel downward and capture the dress you wore. “Now, based on the fact that this shoddy house of yours only has one bedroom, I’d assume you live alone, correct?” He then peered deeply into your eyes, a hint of teasing and arrogance reaching his visage. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you were single; you dress like my grandmother.”

You let out a sarcastic laugh that surprised both you and your captor, “Coming from a man who’s clothed like a philistine barbarian from ancient times.” You half-expected him to answer you with a slap to the face for speaking out of line, or perhaps just end you right there. 

All he did was laugh. 

Laugh like the utter maniac he was.

“You’re feisty; just like the Gerudo women. No wonder you’re alone, no man wants a girl who can’t keep her thoughts to herself.” You glowered at him and his smart-aleck words, holding back the urge to spit in his face and make him go away. You couldn’t grow too comfortable with your retorts...one wrong phrase could lead to your death, whether it be by his fists or the short knife wedged between his hand and the arm of your chair.

There was a look in his wide, scarlet eyes you had never seen before, and it took you a few moments to recognize it for what it was. It was hidden deep behind the teasing and amusement built up, yet it was still visible to the naked eye, like the tiniest pinprick of light in a room of darkness.

_ “Hatred,”  _ something whispered. You shook your head.  _ “No...it was bloodlust.” _

“So… Where is it?” he suddenly asked with a horribly drastic deepening in his voice. His laughter had died down, and he was back to business. When you didn’t answer quickly enough, he moved his blade to rest it upon your neck. “You’re pushing strike two.”

“I-I-” you stammered out. His dagger pushed further into the soft skin, as though he were trying to force the words out of you with his movement.

“Quit blathering, woman. Tell me where the sword is, and I might consider letting you live.” An image of the previous night flashed in your mind’s eye vividly, like a star that was leading you out of the darkness. An empty sheath sat miserably in the corner, mourning the loss of its companion. You knew exactly what he was referring to, but the sword was gone before you (unfortunately) came across his inert body. 

There was no way you could tell him the truth. This guy was bad news, and he seemed like the type who wouldn’t accept an “I don’t know” for an answer. But what would you say? 

Your head casually turned to the right, and the warrior’s gaze followed your own. You scowled at his bag of equipment before turning to him defiantly. “I found you lying in the street knocked out cold. I wasn’t sure if I could trust you, so I put your sword underneath the floorboards.” 

His frosty glare transformed into a look of satisfaction. “You are one dumb Hylian if you expect me to believe that. If you’re lying, I will paint this room with your blood and destroy the village.” 

You scoffed at his accusation--even though it sounded more like a weak cough--and gestured to him in a way that said “have at it.” But on the inside, you were absolutely terrified of what was about to happen. He couldn’t destroy the village all by himself...right? You  _ were  _ talking about someone who could heal himself of deadly wounds in less than twenty-four hours, not to mention the fact that he looked like a seasoned warrior in his prime. 

He moved his arms away from your sides and immediately dove for his equipment like a starving child who was given a cake. After shoving his things out of the way, he stabbed his dagger through the floor, causing you to flinch when you imagined the blade plunging into your abdomen. The man made quick work of the floorboards, his gray hair falling forward to shield his profile from your view. 

Your legs started twitching when he pulled back the boards to reveal not a sword, but the foundation of your home. Without a second thought, you stood from your spot and grabbed a nearby candelabra to use as a weapon. You sprinted to your bedroom, terrifyingly loud thumps following after you to signal that the monster was chasing you. 

_ BANG!  _ You didn’t bother to look back at him, unsure of what had just happened. You slammed your door shut and pushed all of your weight against it. 

_ Damn… _ you couldn’t use your dresser as a barricade. It was simply too heavy to move from one side of the room to the other. You instead focused on keep your feet locked into position, and you prepared for the door to cave in…

But nothing happened.

Silence’s reign continued on endlessly; never ending, never changing. The wind blew restlessly outside as if to urge you to open the door.

You didn’t move an inch. 

Should you open the door? 

_ No… _

Pressing your ear against it, you heard nothing. 

He was trying to trick you into leaving...he had to have been. So you stood motionless for quite some time, waiting for any form of noise to jump from behind the wood 

Still nothing.

You didn’t know what was happening, but knew silence was warranted now. The tepid night air and the terror you felt were enough to make you feel dampened with sweat. Your teeth chattered in pure horror, and you unequivocally sensed that things had calmed down. 

Carefully twisting the knob, you peeked your head out and into the open. You waved your candelabra around threateningly; all of the wax sticks had already been discarded. Lying immobile on the floor was the demon, his dagger resting a few feet from his open palm. You tip-toed your way over with two hands on your weapon, ready to swing when needed. Sticking out your tongue in concentration, you awkwardly kicked his knife away before peering past the fringe of his silver bangs. It casted a shadow over the exotic slant of his eyes, which were closed and unseeing.  That was when you noticed the red liquid seeping out of his side. 

“Hey, you ok?” You called out, making sure to keep your distance. He showed no signs of response, and only his diaphragm shook in an attempt to pull air in and out of his lungs. 

You poked his hand with the candelabra...what a hassle.

A sigh slipped past your lips.  _ “So he wasn’t completely healed,”  _ you thought with annoyance. You carefully stepped around the blood you would have to mop up in the morning and grabbed the bicep that once cornered you in the kitchen. A low groan escaped you when the ever-aching pain returned in your back, and after several heaves, you were able to drag the warrior’s body into your room and on the bed. 

You let him be and left the area to collect his things before stashing them in the lowest cabinet on the far right. The dagger remained untouched in the corner of the room, its sharp edges taunting you with a formidable feeling.

“Oh, shush…” you said aloud, grabbing the hilt and depositing it with the rest of the gear. 

You stood quietly in your home.

_ “Sweet Farore, what the hell am I doing?” _ You plunged your face deep into your hands, letting the tears flow out. You weren’t sure if they were tears of gaiety or panic or relief, but the sudden urge to run away struck you. That guy almost killed you! And what do you do? You haul him back to bed and pray that it was all just an illusion!

“Ok, don’t freak out, (y/n), don’t freak out, don’t freak out.”

_ “I really need you, Dad.”  _ Your feet unconsciously guided you to the one other room of your diminutive house, pulling you to take refuge in the chair at his bedside. You studied the man closely.

Sticking with what you said before, the dark tunic he wore looked foreign...like something you’d find in a history book. You supposed while you were gone, he had strapped his wrist guards back on, which you promptly took off--a small sign of your defiance. Your gaze drew upwards to find a striking, gray-haired man with almond-shaped eyes that were thickly laced with dark lashes. His skin had returned to its natural tan color, and you pondered on whether his mood had anything to do with his...transformations. His hair looked messy under the cap he kept on his head, but with his sharp nose, thin lips, and strong jaw, it suited him remarkably well. 

You’ve said this before many times, but he looked too familiar for his own good. If there was one thing that you knew, someone wanted him dead, other than yourself at the moment, of course. Maybe he was a warrior from a foreign country, a knight lost after the war? That would explain his fears of being caught. 

The level of mystery surrounding the man was unbelievable. 

But the real question was: What were you going to do?

In the past, you were more than happy to accommodate this man. That is, before he threatened to hurt you and the people of Castle Town. But now? If anything, you should turn him into the guards and let fate decide where he should go from there. 

What would Katherine do? Well, first of all, she would never have been in this situation. She probably would’ve gotten her neighbor, Benji (who was head-over-heels in love with her, if you might add), to carry him to a doctor. Despite how naïve she could be at times--and much to your chagrin--you had to admit that she probably would have handled the situation far better than yourself. 

Now if this man attacked her and collapsed moments later? It was hard to say...things like this don’t occur on a daily basis. 

_ “Help anyone in need,”  _ your dad’s voice whispered ever-so diligently. Growing up in the house of a physician has shaped you in many ways. It was because of this fact that you couldn’t decide on whether to nurse your attacker back to health, or to throw him to the streets without a care. 

You hid your (e/c) eyes from the world’s view, the air laden with the bitter somberness of memories.

***

Your father always said,  _ “Once the game is over, the king and the pawn go back into the same box.” _

As a child, you never fully understood what he meant by those words. Whenever you were upset or frustrated with others, he taught you to look at things in contrasting perspectives;  _ “Remember that all people in this world have different values and possessions...things that you need to respect and understand before you can truly regard yourself.” _ You were rather vulnerable and innocent at the time, so like any other child, you would smile and nod your head at him to show you heard what he said. You never processed his meaning, but as long as you listened, it was ok…

You had come from a family who always lived life in a seemingly normal way. You had a mother, a father, and an incredible knack for blending into the background. You were somebody else’s story. The person they pushed past on a crowded street, the one who sat three tables away in the restaurant, the girl who helped them study in grammar school. You have happened upon many places, to many people--the essence of you lived on in those nuances, those moments. You personally enjoyed being able to fit in with silence as though you were best friends, and you spent most of your time observing others and wishing for more. 

The time you spent with your parents was always a blessing, though you wouldn’t realize it until after they moved on. As the daughter of your hometown’s only doctor, many strangers visited your home, some appearing for prescriptions; and others, remedies for deadly wounds. Some even lived with you for weeks on end, but no matter who needed help, your father was more than happy to take on the challenge:

_ The town was filled with the heavy fog of dreams, and sleep descended upon almost every form in a coat of unconsciousness. It was not silent, however, as the indistinct rustling of bodies and muffled sounds of snoring drifted in scattered waves between the simplistic buildings. At first glance, it was dark, but after some time one could easily come to recognize the many layers of moonlight rippling through the air like silvery breaths. _

_ The delicate emission of light was interrupted by the mellow golden radiation of a flickering candle in one of the buildings. The contrast between the deep blue of night and the restrained yellow of the flame was a pleasing effect; nonetheless, it still remained startling to any late-night creature that dared to awaken in the peaceful setting. _

_ In the center of the glowing pool of light, your father sat in his rocker, a look of deep concentration on his face.  _

_ “Hey, Dad?” The man jumped from his slouched position, eyes unseeing for a minute as he searched for the gentle voice in the dark. You stepped forward to greet his gaze and noticed that he was still dressed in his clothes from the previous day.  _

_ “(Y/n), what are you doing up so late?” He sounded weary, but not from the lack of sleep. It was strange...all of his exhaustion was coming from his mental state, but his disheveled appearance divulged his secret.  _

_ “I should ask you the same thing...it’s six in the morning,” you giggled out when the man turned his head to look at the clock, then out at the midnight sky, then at you with a look that could rival the silliness of a donkey’s.  _

_ But despite your pleasant disposition, you were somewhat perturbed, though. _

_ Your father didn’t receive any patients the evening before, so there was no need for him to pull an all-nighter. What disturbed him so much that he would do such a thing? _

_ “What’s wrong? Did Mom kick you out of the bedroom again?” You wanted to keep things light, which wasn’t hard with a man as genial as your dad. You took a seat on the sill of the window and waited for his effervescent chuckle, in which he would make a noise, but it just sounded hollow and mirthless. The middle-aged man lifted his arms to rub at his (e/c) eyes before allowing them to descend gently to his lap, his gaze falling on your form. _

_ “Your uncle is visiting tomorr-I mean, I suppose I should say today.” _

_ You bit your lip slightly. Taking a deep, steeling breath, you tried to relax yourself, but failed utterly when you saw how troubled your father appeared to be. You couldn’t seem to shake the haunting memories of what happened in the past with your paternal uncle, your father’s brother.  _

_ “I hope he’s returning to apologize after what happened?” _

_ “Actually, no...he says he’s sick.”  _

_ You could hear it. It was burning deep in your chest. That angry gasp that was your heartbeat. Thoughts of rage and despair clouded your head, a fetid and grubby curse buried deep within the marrow of your mind. _

_ You couldn’t show your feelings yet, though. You needed to know your father’s plans. _

_ “You don’t intend…” your voice trailed off, but came back just as strong, “to help him...do you?” _

_ His answer came out as a sigh, “He thinks it’s Deming’s Fever. He’s already gone to several other doctors across the nation, but he doesn’t have any money, nor the time.”  _

_ You jerked in your spot, wordless, and stood on the cold, hardwood floor. Your father watched your reaction as though he were studying a specimen of sorts. He observed the way how your fists clenched at your sides, then unclenched, clenched, and then unclenched. He viewed the way how your eyes darted from left to right, almost like you were seeing something that wasn’t there. You were battling your inner demons of rage at the moment, and after a few seconds, you lost. _

_ “That  _ **_man_ ** _ does not deserve any form of sympathy from you. He took everything we had! And if it weren’t for the money we stored in the back, we would be living on the streets!” You were referring to the time, oh so many years ago, when the devil of a man robbed your home of its contents, leaving behind only a desk and a pile of lint before running off to sell your possessions for money to waste on liquor.  _

_ “I took an oath as a physician, and I want you to remember it, (y/n),” he sounded thirty years older than his actual age. “Not only is that ‘man’ my brother, but as a doctor, I believe it is my duty to assist all those who are injured or ill in anyway I can.” _

_ “I’d hardly call that drunkard a human,” you seethed. _

_ “Your uncle was once a remarkable being, willing to serve anyone. It was simply unfortunate that his wife had to get him tied up in her poor life choices.” _

_ “But he nearly killed you in his escape to Hyrule Field!” You reminisced indignantly, remembering how the town’s banker was just quick enough to shove your father out of the loaded carriage’s way. _

_ But in response, your father smiled, “Yes, you’re right. His criminal background can be daunting, but that still doesn’t change the fact that he is human. Which brings me back to my request.”  _

_ You were stunned by his words. Was he really that forgiving? Was it even possible for a man to be as merciful as your father was right now?  _

_ You returned to your spot on the window sill. “And what is your request?” _

_ The elder man sauntered over to your slouched and defeated position, resting a worn and calloused hand on your shoulder. “If you have the power to change a life, then by all means, use that power. Help anyone in need. There’s far too much hate in this world, and I’m tired of following its vicious cycle. You’re a sweet girl, (y/n). Don’t be afraid to assist another if they’ve done you wrong or vice versa, because it will only add to the crucible of negative emotions in this world.” _

_ *** _

You leaned back to stare out at the reflection of stars twinkling in the vast expanse of space. You were feeling wistful, which was how you normally felt when you thought about your family. 

Your uncle did show up several hours later, just as noon struck to greet your father in his sickly form. He would stay a few days with your family, which you spent the time holed up in your room out of abhorrence for the man. You did remember viewing his departure from afar, this time not in a carriage traveling at high-speeds. His goodbye was full of appreciation for your father’s service and tears that came (a little too easily in your opinion) when he apologized for all that he had done in the past. You had no idea where your uncle was now, but you liked to imagine that he was probably spending his days in the blacksmith’s shop in Kakariko Village, his old residency from when you were still a child.

Your eyes fell on the stranger lying in your bed. His mouth hung open slightly, the sound of air rushing past his lips making you feel sleepy as he rested his weary body. You silently examined the wound in his shoulder, noting the torn stitches that would need to be fixed soon. 

Maybe this was your way of continuing that morning discussion; some primal need to recreate that event so that it was real in your mind for that much longer. You never denied missing your parents, you had just never spoken the words aloud. But if you could follow through with your father’s teachings and keep your promise to obey his request, then maybe their souls (along with yours) could rest in peace.

You set about cleaning up the strangers wounds once more, taking the time to study his rapid rehabilitation with interest. This rendition, in a way, was merely a poor replica of what once was, which you knew clearly, but helping this warrior made you feel better about the past, as well as the future. 

You wouldn’t be sleeping tonight, that was for sure, and you would have to find a better hiding place for his gear...you know, to use his things as a bribe to get some answers from him. 

“Hey,” you poked the stranger’s ribs lightly, “if you try to kill me, I won’t hesitate to get the guards, you hear me?” 

You weren’t sure if you were saying that to him or to yourself, but in the end, the whole thing sounded bizarre.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A.N.: Hey everyone! Wow, it feels like it’s been forever! A quick apology for the time it took me to update. As a recent graduate, I hope that some of you may understand how busy things can get with graduation parties and registration days and college prep and ugh! Here’s another chapter though, and I promise that the next one will be out in a week (because yay, grownup stuff). 
> 
> I’ll stop talking now, see you all next time. :)

The world was caught in that moment between night and dawn as the sun, hidden just below the horizon, bordered on the precipice of sight. Peace laid over the municipality known as Castle Town and its citizens in a smooth curtain of gentle tranquility, sheltering all with a layer of foggy drowsiness.

By the time you had decided to make breakfast, the sun was still struggling to rise over the stubborn solidity of the skyline. Pulling out the necessary ingredients and bowls, you proceeded to follow the instructions on how to make potato soup. It wasn’t exactly a breakfast made for champions, but when mixed in with bacon bits, the broth served its purpose well. Not only that, but you’ve made the meal many times before, so by this point, your movements were robotic.

After changing out your old bandage from the day before yesterday, you set out on peeling the potatoes carefully and watched how the skin fell in one giant heap into the trashcan. You felt absolutely drained each time you moved your hands, an understandable condition since you didn’t get a wink of sleep last night.

There was a quiet buzz in the air, a nervous tension that made your muscles tighten, even as you struggled to brush off the sleepiness. You were anxiously anticipating _his_ awakening, apprehensive of how he would react to waking up on the fleecy mattress that belonged to the person he attacked the night before… And the edginess only continued to grow as the morning progressed, throwing your worried mind into a tangled mess of emotions.

A few hours ago, you took the liberty of hiding his gear in a dried-up flowerbed located at the side of your house. If he were to wake up, you surmised he would be less inclined to show his violent side, but only time would tell.

The smell of potatoes and bacon wafted through the air as you scooped a hefty amount of soup into two bowls. With your utensils in hand, you kicked open your bedroom door and promptly sat in your designated bed, chair, table--you name it. Sparing the stranger a quick glance, you confirmed that he was still trying to regain his strength. During the night, something rather extraordinary occurred in your time spent by his side: his wounds--ones that would normally take weeks to repair--had mended themselves. It was astonishing for you to watch, and even though there were little cuts here and there still, his rehabilitation was faultless…

Finally, after many minutes of ingesting soup and staring off into space, true morning was reached. The sun was still relatively low in the sky, and you took a moment to admire the effect the shadowy light had on the dustings of clouds slowly drifting across the blue expanse.

 _“Good morning,”_ you thought absentmindedly, drinking the rest of your bowl’s contents before letting out a soft 'ah.' Licking your lips, you stared at the extra dish resting idly on the nightstand. A thick film had formed on top from the lack of stirring, and steam was no longer coming off the delectable (or at least you hoped it was) broth.

Your gaze flitted away from the soup to focus on your dainty hands. Observing your wounded finger, you instantly recalled that Ms. Fairfax was expected you in the next hour for work.

You couldn’t leave _him_ though...you wouldn’t put it past the stranger to level your house in search for his things while you were away. As a sedulous and diligent worker, you had spent some extra hours at the shop, wasting away in the back with only your needle and fabric to keep you company. If anything, you were ahead of the game, for the new autumn dresses were nearly prepped and ready for vending. Would it be all that bad to miss a day?

You stood from your chair to wash your dishes, but you decided to leave the extra bowl of soup.

“Just in case,” you murmured.

***

You had always contained the forbearance to hold yourself back from curiosity.

It was said that it was what killed the cat after all, and you were nothing, if not properly content. It did not do to dwell on things of a mysterious sort. Adventures and risks and such empty nonsense never did anyone any good.

Besides, you _liked_ your quaint and quiet life…

Or were you just living life as it came?

Nevertheless, to be curious was dangerous enough.

Your eyes slipped away carelessly from the novel in your hands to glance at the male’s sleeping form before gazing out the window to stare at the now-setting sun. The delicate and varying oranges and golds were not enough to sway you from the intense spirit of inquiry you were feeling at the moment. With a sigh, you set your book off to the side and focused your attention on the hat resting gingerly by the stranger’s shoulder. You had seen it before, moving with the man’s head like a net being thrown around to catch butterflies in the field, and after you laid him to repose, it had fallen to the side without notice.

Hmmm...should you do it?

As you’ve said before, you enjoyed your existence as the background character. Why were you getting this feeling of satisfaction when staring at the peculiar hat? It was just a hat, nothing more, nothing less. If your patient woke up to see you messing with it, he would most likely overreact to the situation.

Your fingers rested on the fabric gently, running over the rough linen as though it would fall apart if you pressed on it too forcibly. It appeared to be a phrygian cap with its conical shape; however, it was rather long, and it fell backwards rather than curling forward.

You needed a bit of rebellion. Nothing too wild, but enough to soothe the feathers that had been ruffled at the sight of his idle hat. You wouldn’t wear it, no, nothing of the sort, but you would observe the stitching, the pattern that was used by its creator. Above all, you needed to know how the fabric was cut, because if anything, this could serve as an educated lesson.

And with that thought settled in your head, you lifted the cap away from the man’s body.

“What are you doing?” You dropped the cloth rapidly, and your stomach was quick to follow when a masculine voice flooded your ears. You looked up to see that the stranger was gazing placidly in your direction from the corner of his lidded eyes.

“You’re awake,” you stated dumbly, more as a form of assurance for the racing ticker in your chest.

“No, I’m sleeping,” he rolled his eyes promptly, “give me my hat.”

At least he wasn’t referring to you by some derogatory name...that fact didn’t stop the glare that surfaced, however. You handed him his hat, flinching away moderately when the tips of his fingers brushed your hand. You tried to hide your nervousness, obviously failing when the man responded with a hint of smugness:

“You fear me, don’t you?” A gruff laugh answered your silence, “you’re not the first.”

His crimson eyes turned dark at his statement, suddenly scrutinizing the wall as though he could see for miles, but his irritatingly complacent look was still present. Your brain privately noted his change in mood, but your mouth, on the other hand, was on a one-way street. “Don’t try anything funny!” You blurted out with slight restraint, (e/c) eyes widening with how irrationally certifiable you sounded.

Where had all those hours of preparation gone? You knew what you wanted to say to him, but nevertheless, you’ve never had a knack for following the cautious instructions laid about by your brain, huh?

Amusement burned deep in his visage as he returned to stare at your features. A sharp exhale flew from his nostrils, a sign of humor, “Or what? You’ll wrap me up with some more bandages? Stupid girl.” The man lifted his arms slowly, causing you to jump out of your chair in dismay. Your candelabra sat prettily on the nightstand…

But all he did was pull himself up to lean against the headboard.

“How long was I asleep?” He asked, eyeing your body shamelessly. It was unbelievably alarming how casual this man was.

“You’re going to reopen your wounds…” you mumbled quietly.

“Can’t you be obedient and answer my questions for once? Your concern is not needed.”

“Hmph, well you should be nicer to your host, _milady_ ,” you mocked his tone from the night before, unable to control your bouts of sarcasm. This guy...it was strange how easily he clawed his way into your skin. Normally, you would disregard any insults thrown your way by strangers on the street, for your shy nature kept you from speaking up.

Forget your diffidence...he didn’t deserve any form of kindness if he wasn’t going to be polite, especially after all that you had done for him.

He found your response not as amusing as the last, shaking you out of your thoughts when his glower sharpened intensely. “ _Please,”_ he hissed, _“_ tell me how long I was asleep _.”_

“Well, since you spoke so nicely, about seventeen hours.” You lifted the corner of your lip to mimic his appearance from before and felt satisfaction bloom in your being. However, just the thought of the time that had passed made you want to yawn.

He sat rigid and unemotional in his seat, inspecting the sheets of your bed with undirected eyes. From what you could tell, he was in deep thought, pondering over something that you probably would never understand. But one idea scraped mindlessly in the back of your throat:

“Is someone looking for you?”

He remained uncharacteristically silent--perhaps a virtue if anything--and folded his arms with a grunt. You could tell he was trying to hide the pain he felt with each of his movements. After many years spent at the side of your father, you had grown accustomed to common forms of expression. Just by noting the way how he balled his coarsened and embittered hands was enough to allow passage into his emotions.

You waited for him to answer you. It had been several minutes by the time he decided to take action. With sore muscles, he attempted to push himself off the bed.

“Hey, be careful. You’re too weak to go anywhere,” you chastised, reaching out your arms to return him to the mattress. That was a poor decision, because in a flash, he had you flying back against the wall.

“I’m fine!” He fell unceremoniously to the floor when he could stand no longer.

Your world was spinning on its axis at a slow pace, back aching just as much as the rest of your body when it collided with the wall of your bedroom. You collapsed on the dusty ground and glanced upward to find the silver-haired idiot lying several feet from you. Your head was spinning as you crawled across the oak floors and slowly stood to hover over the traveler’s body. He was trying to stand on his feet, writhing and shaking with each movement as you reached down to help him. This time, he didn’t push you away.

“Let me go, you wench!” He screamed, using his words to attack rather than his arms, something you would take any day.

“You’re in pain, and you need to rest before you hurt yourself even more.” You plopped him back onto the bed and watched him closely with exasperation in your (e/c) eyes.

“I’m not like you Hylians,” he gasped out in his seated position, “so weak and frail...I’m a Shadow, a dark reflection of-” his words were cut short by a rush of extreme discomfort in his side.

“But you look like a Hylian?” He tried to push against you, his punches collided with your stomach and shoulders and chest and any part of you that he could reach. Overtime, they weakened to nudges, where he simply gave up and allowed you to return him to the covers of your mattress.

“I always forget how uncultured your people are,” he mumbled, resting his head on the tough, feathered pillow that once belonged to your grandmother, “and I do not have the time, nor the patience to rest.”

“Please, if you tell me who is chasing you, I may be able to help. Is it the royal guard?”

“That’s none of your business, woman.”

You folded your arms and rolled your eyes. “Well excuse me for prodding, but you’re resting in _my_ house, sleeping in _my_ bed, using _my_ room-”

“Which looks awfully bland if I might add.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“I’ve been told.” He stared up at the ceiling as you tossed the covers over his body, maybe a little too violently when they landed with a _thud_ on his chin. Eyes the color of hot flames danced in your direction, narrowing ever-so slightly from your actions before hardening.

You didn’t care. He couldn’t retaliate based on how weak he was. You just wanted him to salvage as much energy as he could so he would leave.

“...” You returned to your chair at his side, sparing him a glance before surveying the world outside the glass window. Ancient live oaks, their gnarled arms twisting without direction, lined the grove between you and the main expanse of land known to all as Hyrule Field. You imagined sitting under the canopy leaves, the remainder of today’s light playing over the dull wood in a brilliantly shifting kaleidoscope of muted tones. You wished that you could smell the grass and rotting wood, a smell that secretly delighted you, but the peroxide from the stranger’s wounds was too loud for you to reminisce.

“Why did you help me?” a baritone voice buzzed out. You pulled away from your thoughts to see the stranger still staring at the ceiling with those almond-shaped orbs, observing not with his usual solid gaze, but rather with eyes that had softened considerably.

_Like a confused child…_

“I found you passed out on the dirt road in front of my house...I couldn’t just leave you to die.”

“No, not at first, you fustilarian,” he growled, head falling to the side in your direction.

“What’s a...fusilerin?”

“Idiot, you really are as stupid as you look. You’re far too stubborn to stop wasting time on worthless things, especially when there’s no money in it…” His gaze returned to the spots on the roof, most likely counting how many years this house would have left; surely, not many. “I hope you’re not expecting anything from me; that would be a fool’s thing to do.”

You decided to ignore his first comment. “Unlike _some_ people, I actually have morals. I helped you because you were weak.” You didn’t mention anything about your father nor how familiar the stranger’s face was; it was probably for the best…

“Wow…” he mumbled, refusing to look you in the eyes, “you’re definitely the type who will pass at a young-”

His words died swiftly on his lips when several knocks rang through the residence. Immediately, his mouth pulled back to expel a growl. His crimson eyes burned with pure hatred and directed themselves toward your face:

_“Are you expecting anyone?”_

You shook your head. Your social life was a complete disaster. Unless if Katherine was having another one of her mental breakdowns, you never had visitors this late into the evening. Or…

“It could be my boss. I didn’t show up for work today.” Your words did little to ease the tension in the room. He was practically emitting agitation and loathing at the moment, a deadly combination that threatened to cave the walls in by sheer willpower. His fists balled into your sheets, teeth clenched tightly together.

“No one can know I am here. Those _witches_ probably scouted this place out, and now they’re taking action,” his voice sounded desperate, almost pleading if it weren’t for the detestation laced thickly in his tone. You slowly rose from your chair and began to walk toward the door.

But a large hand stretched out and gripped your forearm.

You remembered reading about something like this in one of the romance novels Ms. Fairfax allowed you to borrow. Just as the female protagonist prepares to storm out of the room, her lover reaches out and grabs her wrist before tugging her back into an embrace so full of warmth and affection and tenderness, everything and anything that would make a woman swoon… This was not one of those moments.

The stranger roughly yanked you forward to press his mouth against your ear:

“I don’t care who is at your door, _don’t let anyone inside_. Those desert witches are wise and definitely powerful enough to disguise themselves with magic into someone you love in order to gain your trust. If you value your life, you will do as I tell you.”

You swallowed back the saliva that had accumulated rather quickly, fear returning to embrace you like an old friend by this point. It all had to be a dream, a sick and twisted nightmare that would end if you squeezed your eyes hard enough. The painful grasp on your arm was _too real_ though, the faint smell of blood on his breath was _too real._ You weren’t naive enough to blame this all on imagination.

But what if the royal guard was knocking on your door? What if they had heard of the attempted murder that had taken place under your roof? Would you turn him in?

You would have to answer that question as soon as you saw who was at your door.

The stranger released you from his hold then. He must had said something else to you, because he was asking for confirmation, which you nodded your head out of habit. His response was a devilish grin…

Oh no, what did you just agree to?

“They probably have my sword,” he conjectured, which you were more than happy to clarify.

“When you asked where it was before...I lied. Your sheath was empty when I found you,” you whispered.

“I know.”

“Wait...then why did you ask?!”

“You should realize by now that everything is a game to me,” he hardly contained the hearty laughter that threatened to blow his cover from the look on your face, a wolfish grin decorated his features.

 _“I should rip out your stitches for that,”_ or at least, that was what you wanted to say. You held your breath and counted to three. After releasing the air in your chest, you sighed deeply at his words and tried to rein in your growing irritation before it could get out of hand.

“They should have my sword, hidden by magic so I won’t be able to detect it. However,” his eyes widened into a crazed disposition, “that doesn’t mean _you_ can’t see it.”

Another series of knocks resounded throughout your home.

“Go! Before they grow too suspicious.”

Your feet moved robotically to the door of your bedroom and paused just before the exit. You turned your head back to stare at the warrior, who was now sitting straight up in your bed, and examined the confidence he exuded. “How do you know you can trust me?”

His grin faltered somewhat before settling into a smirk. “I don’t trust you,” but the conceited smile was quick to disappear as soon as it came, “Just know that if you don’t follow my instructions, I promise to make the rest of your short existence miserable.”

All you could do was nod your head in understanding.

_If you value your life, you will do as I tell you._

Everything clicked together all of a sudden. His words weren’t just a warning about the witches.

He was also threatening you.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay for another chapter! I hope you all enjoy and have a wonderful week!

By the time you had reached your front door, you stumbled.

Your weariness was so strong that it was almost tangible, but after the rather “exciting” events as of late, you luckily found the smallest bits of energy in the darkest crevices of your body. Your back, which was shielded only by the cotton of your gray dress at the time of impact, was moaning not-so quietly with pain after your crash landing against the sturdy walls of your bedroom. It was only natural that you would walk with an awkward gait, perhaps a bath would soothe your pain...but not the surging multitude of emotions you were feeling at the moment.

Your fingers draped themselves over the knob of your door, pulling back to reveal the one person you were hoping to see, dressed in an outfit that gave her personality a little  _ too  _ much justice.

“(Y/n)! Dear, you look terrible!” 

Yes, it was Ms. Fairfax. 

The plump woman stood on the front porch of your home, mouth hanging open as she looked over your form enthusiastically, a common event for you and your overly-anxious boss. The woman wore a dress with a low neckline that ended at her portly ankles, made from white, light pink, purple, and gold fabrics from the shop. It was accentuated with lace sleeves, which were hidden by a two-layered cape fully lined to protect her from the cold. She had always preferred bold colors and was fond of clothes that were fairly decorative and non-utilitarian.

“Hello, Ms. Fairfax-” you started, but was quickly interrupted by Ms. Fairfax’s rambunctious tone.

“Have you been getting any sleep lately? You didn’t show up for work today, and it worried me dearly!” Her hooded eyes resembled the black-flecked deep brown of pecan shells, a unique shade that could warm any cold heart. 

“Forgive me. I was caught up in some of my homely duties,” your voice made a rather ghastly croak when you choked out your lie to your boss. If you were to tell her the real reason for your absence today, it could lead to a rather complicated situation that may end in injury.

_ “I don’t care who is at your door, don’t let anyone inside. Those desert witches are wise and definitely powerful enough to disguise themselves with magic into someone you love in order to gain your trust. If you value your life, you will do as I tell you.”  _

You peered silently into Ms. Fairfax’s eyes, finding no signs of deception within her pools of coffee brown. The woman rattled on about how stressful her day was at the shop without you, unaware of how closely you watched her actions. She appeared to be normal and even casual as she waved her arms around in exaggeration. If anything, the traveler was probably trying to freak you out or use this distraction as a way to search for his gear. 

Ms. Fairfax halted her wild hand gestures for a second. “Would you mind if I came inside for a moment?” You paused when the woman grinned brightly down on you, your vision traveling far off as you remembered the look of pure ambivalence that marred the striking face of the man currently hiding in the other room. His voice whispered warnings in the back of your mind, but your body was telling you to step aside and guide the hapless and weary seamstress to your kitchen table.

You swallowed back the lump that had formed. “Why not take a seat outside? We can watch the leaves fall and talk about some things.” There went your voice again...cracking from your nervousness while you cursed noiselessly. Maybe if the could-be imposter wasn’t standing in front of you, you would’ve given your forehead a nice little smack.

But the woman just smiled even wider and said “What a wonderful idea!” 

An overflowing rush of guilt coursed through you at her words.

The two of you sat on the ledge of your wooden porch, and with a rather violent shiver, you immediately realized that you weren’t dressed properly for the chill of the evening. Ms. Fairfax didn’t seem to notice and lifted the fashionable hat she wore off her head, setting it off to her right; she always had a penchant for vintage hats…

The two of you talked--or more like Ms. Fairfax talked and you listened--about a wide variety of topics. From rhapsodizing over her niece’s birthday next week to scolding you for worrying her terribly, the woman discussed all that came to her mind. The more she prattled, the less suspicious you were and the more you thought about the mysterious man concealed away in your home. 

“-and these wrinkles just keep popping up! You should embrace your youth, dear.” She had just finished deliberating over whether her new facial cream was as ‘miraculous’ as it claimed to be, and a delicate silence fell over the two of you. You felt the need break the stillness with a question or two about her day, but your tongue was caught. After spending quite sometime with Ms. Fairfax, the woman easily picked up on the internal struggle you were having at the moment, although she wouldn’t know the reason why you kept your thoughts to yourself. 

She interrupted the quietude with some small talk, “so have you heard about the recent gossip around the block?”

“No, not really…” you murmured, avoiding eye contact when the woman tittered mischievously.

“Come now, dearest, take a guess.” 

You racked your head for clues. She wouldn’t leave the matter alone--you knew Ms. Fairfax enjoyed her gossip just as much as the next person in Castle Town--until you’d thought of something satisfactory. 

The wind sent another quake through your body, one less dramatic than your first. Maybe you  _ were  _ spending too much time holed up in the boutique. You tugged your sleeves closer to your palms and sighed softly as you answered, “I...don’t know.”

The seamstress’ eyes fluttered with excitement from your lack of knowledge. “I can always count on you to be out of the know!”

You weren’t sure if that was supposed to be a compliment or not, but took it as gracefully as you could. If someone asked you, you would say that you were a little intimidated by Ms. Fairfax’s straight-forward personality and loud honesty. It was the kind of warmth that stirred some uncomfortable memories in the back of your mind, but you had to admit that it was that exact trait of hers that gave her so much potential in the world of business.

“Well, dear (y/n),” she said, “it’s a fact that just about  _ everyone _ knows there is talk about evil among the royal family. The war is over, but danger still lurks on the horizon within our own borders.” Her teasing was dropped and replaced by a solemn tone.

“W-what do you mean?”

_ “What I mean,”  _ she warned, waggling her finger a little before tapping your nose, “is that a youthful girl living on her own should be careful. There’s been talk about the stability of the Triforce of Wisdom, or rather, lack thereof. It’s been several hundred years since Hyrule’s been in danger of an uproar...if evil were to return, now would be the perfect opportunity.”

You had heard stories from Katherine about the recent increase of moblin hordes spotted in Hyrule Field. She had brought it up to you once out of worry for your safety, which you were quick to reassure her that the groups avoided Castle Town and would never bother your home unless if they were asking for war. Of course, that didn’t stop her from gushing over how vulnerable you were, but if anything, your house would probably be safer when furthest away from the castle. 

The idea of it all had the gears turning in your head though...the arrival of the stranger in your home didn’t seem like a random occurrence, especially after everything he told you. The witches he spoke of sound absolutely terrifying and definitely powerful, and peace in Hyrule only lasted for so long before the next evil came along to ruin the tranquility. If someone was planning to attack the royal family, now would be the perfect time; with a weakened army after the recent war, Hyrule was as vulnerable as a newborn.

“Gossip is gossip…” you stated in an attempt to reassure your boss along with your racing thoughts. 

“Gossip  _ is  _ gossip,” she repeated.  

You felt a small drop of liquid fall on your face, slipping from your forehead to work its way down the bridge of your nose. You tilted your head upward and noted the storm clouds that had appeared as if on a whim, the upper atmosphere no longer as clear and empty as it had been a few minutes ago. The rain suddenly fell faster, the chilled air cooling the water into icy tears that soaked into your skin with wintry glee. Snippets of the night sky were quickly increasing in size, and the sun was chased away by cold tones of navy. 

“Oh my,” Ms. Fairfax stated, “it wasn’t supposed to rain..?” The woman turned in your direction, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she stood and returned her hat to her head and adjusted her petticoats. She explained that she should return home to her family before they could worry too much. 

“Will you be alright heading home alone?” you questioned, completely disregarding the possibility that Ms. Fairfax may not even  _ be  _ Ms. Fairfax at all. 

“I’ve been through worse,” she sighed, “this certainly won’t help the aging process.”

You giggled at her statement and watched as the seamstress left to return to the shining beacon of light in the distance. 

You watched as she somewhat waddled to a stop and turned to flash you a smile. “Will I be seeing you tomorrow? Or are there other  _ homely duties  _ you need to take care of?” 

You could feel warmth spread over your cheeks and ears...of course! You had always been a terrible liar, and it was rather plain to hear that Ms. Fairfax had caught on to your lie. The woman was too kind to put you in an awkward situation by asking you for the truth, which you were dearly thankful for.

“I’ll be there!” You called and waved, mimicking your boss’ nod with one of your own. With a final smile and a warning for her to ‘watch out for anything suspicious,’ Ms. Fairfax disappeared down the road. 

A wave of calm fell over you, but was quickly disrupted by goosebumps and chattering teeth. You returned to your home swiftly.

Your gaze drifted to the door that led to your bedroom, which was still closed. The nervous energy coursing through your limbs settled down a little, but no matter how hard you tried, it seemed that you could not stifle the expectation that hummed inside your chest.

“Keep it together,” you said aloud to no one in particular. Everything was still in one piece...so why did you feel so awful?

You chewed your bottom lip as you pondered the peculiarities before deciding to make a small dinner for yourself and your companion. You pulled out a loaf of bread, a tomato, and two slices of cheese, and cut the dry, compacted wheat deftly. Four thin pieces were set out before you focused on carving the tomato you had bought recently at the market. You tried to remain nonplussed, but struggled to contain your imagination within reason.

Was he lying to you? It would make sense...he would scare you into leaving the room to take the opportunity to exit through the window and search for his gear. What if he was following Ms. Fairfax? What would you do if she was declared dead the next day?

You recalled how irate his face appeared when he asked if you were expecting anyone...either he was a really good actor, or he was telling the truth.

You tucked away the remains of your dinner, folding the corner of the white cloth your loaf was on. Bits of crumbs were swiftly deposited in the trash, and the leftovers were saved in the cabinet for another, later meal. You took your time, obviously afraid to walk into the room next door to find an empty bed drenched in rain from the open window. Ms. Fairfax’s words floated by like a strange, unpleasant dream…

You brought the meals over to your room, knocking lightly out of habit. The door slowly creaked open.

“Took you long enough.” Relief flooded you when you saw his familiar scowl, a feeling that you never thought would have pleased you in a million years.

“I brought dinner,” you lifted up the tomato sandwich and waited as he eyeballed the bread as though it were a dangerous poison, “it won’t bite.”

“What happened?” 

His brawny arms remained folded over his chest, crimson eyes narrowed slightly. His gaze traveled from the sandwich to your face, almost in such a way that he was judging your reliability through your motions. He had no interest in eating, not until you would tell him the details of your time spent away. You felt like he could almost see through you and all that you were, but ignored the awful sensation.

“It was just my boss…she wanted to check up on me.” He watched you wearily before taking the sandwich out of your hands with a quick swipe. You returned to your position at his bedside, observing his not-so polite actions secretly. With his thumb and pointer finger, he lifted the top layer of his sandwich upward.

“...What’s on it?”

“Tomatoes and cheese.”

A disgusted look flitted over his features. “I  _ hate  _ tomatoes.”

A small laugh echoed in the room, “Eat it anyway. You need to build up your strength.” 

“I don’t need your hospitality, woman,” his glare fixed itself on you for a moment before returning to the food in his palms. 

“I heard tomatoes are supposed to improve brain function,” you stated vengefully when he downed the sandwich in two bites. 

“Well, obviously not. You put your socks and muslins in the same drawer--a poor decision if you ask me.” 

You choked on a small piece of cheese, using your fist to beat your chest lightly as the man to your right snickered. Crumbs flew from his mouth as he had spoke and sprayed the floor and your brown loafers with saliva. Your nose scrunched up from his lack of manners and nasty display. 

“You went through my things?!” You asked with exasperation.

“What else was I supposed to do while you were gone?”

_ “Um, relax and rest until I came back?”  _ You retorted in your mind, watching as the ever-present smirk on his face died down suddenly.  _ “Maybe he was looking for his things…” _

“I hope you know that I didn’t help-” he muffled your voice with his hand.

“Shut up.” Repugnance from him touching you was evident on your features as you dropped your half-eaten meal and attempted to pry his fingers off your face.

“Mmph!” 

He squeezed your jaw tighter as a warning, eyes burning like fire. “Be quiet,” he whispered before going still. You then realized that he wasn’t silencing you because he wanted to, but because he needed to.

Your breathing picked up its pace, the smell of peroxide dousing your senses. The man held a finger up to his lips and released your mouth. He turned closer to you suddenly to look out the window, peering at the drops of water that ran down the glass. You followed his gaze down the pane to see that a large puddle was beginning to form on the outside, slowly slinking in like slime through the bottom. 

You twirled in your chair to get a closer look, eyes drifting to the cold and dreary sky to see that the clouds had meticulously formed above your home and your home alone. The water that crawled through the bottom of your window held an inky black shade, but rather than thinking about the odd color, you wondered stupidly how the rain had squeezed in when the opening was sealed off. 

It was like listening to the beat of a song, the rhythm of the rain was consistent and never ending. The storm raging around you was trying to keep time with the chaos, and it quickened its pace to match the randomness of the clatter. The black goo was dripping onto the floor now, but before you could inspect it further, someone was tugging you away.

“Get back!” You were yanked backward onto your mattress just in time to avoid the smoke that erupted from the mysterious slime. The stranger had flipped you over in a way that kept your head protected and tucked away into his lithe body. You couldn’t see a thing, but an awful smell invaded the room as the smoke flew in all directions. You were coughing viciously then, and you were barely able to pick up his voice. 

A deep rumbling against your forehead surprised you; it was his chest. “Try to hold your breath, it’s dark magic.” You immediately stopped breathing, but started to squirm viciously in his arms. He released you, and you fell backward onto the ground, your eyes wide with fear when you realized how close to death you were. How easy would it have been for him to twist his arms and end you there? 

You pinched your nostrils and stood faster than your brain could comprehend. You blindly went for the door, pushing it open just in time before you were frozen in place.

Smoke rushed out of the room in a flurry. “W-what?”

And then you were flying.

“Woah woah woah woah!” You couldn’t move your limbs no matter how hard you tried; all you could do was watch as the ground fell deeper into the earth...or more like you floated away.

A disturbingly high-pitched cackle met your ears, “Well, what do we have here, Koume?”

The laughing died down just in time for another voice, slightly deeper than the other to answer with a similar accent, “Looks like a traitor and his wench, Kotake!”

A squeak left your lips when your body was suddenly thrown back into the bedroom, hovering just beside your bed. To your right, on the other side of the room, was the so-called “traitor,” and just in front of you were two old women with tanned skin, flying just as high as you on their broomsticks. 

You squinted your eyes at the two, immediately determining their relationship as twin sisters. Their hoary and lusterless hair was pulled back into turbans like bundles of rotting straw that somehow didn’t fly away from their small heads. Their beady eyes, savage and cunning, were filled with amusement as they focused their attention on the stranger in your home, zipping around in circles on old, wooden brooms.

“Did you really think you could escape us and our all-seeing eyes?”

“We did more than just weaken your magic, Dark Link,” they both spoke in harmony as it might be if they were singing a ballad, but the sister’s weren’t  _ completely  _ identical. While they both had rather hawkish, hooked noses and thin chins, the sisters wore different head pieces and clothes: one adorned in jewels made from sapphire; and the other, rubies. 

Surely, these were the witches he mentioned before.

_ " _ _ So they weren’t just an excuse…”  _ You felt negligent for doubting the stranger and proceeded to worry over Ms. Fairfax’s wellbeing. 

Laughter broke you out of your train of thought. “What are you doing in such a third-rate house, traitor?” The red witch asked.

“Sleeping with one of your whores?” The blue witch cackled. Their wheezy, gabbling voices rose higher and higher with each sentence. 

Anger burned deep within your stomach, bubbling viciously upward to your throat as you prepared to retort.

But you couldn’t talk.

You opened your mouth and tried to scream.

Nothing came out.

Your eyes drifted over to the stranger, panic overcoming you when you saw him glowering at the witches, not even trying to fight back. He appeared to be calm, but the loathing in his eyes was unmistakable. 

“It’s pitiful really, Koume. Without the  _ Schattenmeister _ , he can’t even heal himself properly!”

The red witch, who you assumed to be Koume, responded, “I never knew what the great Ganondorf saw in him...he’s just a spoiled brat!”

“Indeed, a spoiled brat!” The two women squawked gleefully, their teeth sneaking past thin, bloodless lips. Dead-fish eyes rested below their thickly laced eyebrows, which hinted at their cruelty as they arced up and over like sickles. Their eyes suddenly shimmered with the spite of a thousand years as they raised their diminutive hands at the stranger, who grunted and squeezed his own orbs shut out of agony.

You had heard them refer to him as ‘Dark Link’ before and considered it to be a nickname of sorts, but their words were just as twisted as the smiles on their faces. In the end, it wouldn’t matter, because they had decided to turn their wrath upon you.

Their spindly, arthritic legs moved rapidly with their brooms, like old spiders, covering the distance between you in a flash. From the corner of your eye, you could see the traveler struggling to release himself while they were distracted. But he couldn’t move... _ you both couldn’t move.  _ You and him were flies in the web they had spun.

Transfixed with their magic, you stared with wide eyes and an open mouth as they surveyed you with disgusting grins. The red witch, Koume, leaned her faces towards yours, and you could smell the sickly passage of her breath. 

“Look at how plain this girl is, Kotake!”

Kotake placed a hand on your skirt and lifted. “Indeed, Koume! I’ve never seen a dress so filled with lackluster personality.” 

It was ironic listening to these filthy witches talk bad about your appearance, but you were too focused on the magic flooding the room, as if the dam that was used as a barrier between the world of magic and your world was broken. Even if you wanted to say something, you couldn’t. Your tongue felt like leather, and your lips were as heavy as a horse; but it wasn’t like you could think of any retorts in your current state of panic.

“-I wouldn’t be surprised if she held a similar mentality.”

“Perhaps we should help her, Koume.”

“I agree, Kotake.”

“Plain as can be…”

“Plain as can be!” 

Their prolific words echoed in your mind over and over again. 

They laughed at the obvious distress you were feeling.

“Her face lacks definition!”

“Look at her hands! Worn and cracked from knitting and sewing!”

“Her skin makes her look ill...we should use  _ that  _ spell.”

“That’s a wonderful proposal, Koume! The poor thing won’t have to suffer looking so plain.”

You opened your mouth to disagree, tears clouding your vision rather pitifully as they cooed at your dismay. Your head shook back and forth swiftly as they giggled sourly with one another, their brooms flying around you in circles now. 

“Last time we used this spell, Yuzu was still alive.”

"Brings back memories, doesn’t it, Koume?”

“Glorious memories, Kotake.”

You could see the stranger struggling viciously, staring at you with scarlet eyes the size of saucers. The witches noticed you watching him through the water gathered in your glassy orbs, and they conjured up a plan to make the two of you suffer:

“Despite our desires, the great Ganondorf wishes for you to be punished rather than killed, you traitorous child,” one said to the man.

“And taking away your magic and healing abilities isn’t enough to instill esteem and integrity apparently…” the other dastardly stated in your ear before twirling to look into your watery eyes with her lupine ones. With her right hand keeping her steady on her broom, she waved her left over your face, your arms, your legs...every part of your body. 

“For attempting to run away from your eternal service to the great lord, we have hidden your sword in Hyrule and banished you from the Dark World.”

“Without the  _ Schattenmeister, _ you will lose all forms of consciousness and serve with the complete and utter  _ conviction  _ that was expected from you from the beginning.”

“If you wish to keep your body and soul, you will find your sword and return it to its former glory before time escapes. You will then be expected to complete your  _ ultimate purpose _ , and  _ maybe _ , since you value your freedom so much, your ties to the lord will be severed.”

“So make sure you look hard!”

“Because you won’t be able to see it!” 

The two witches laughed as if everything they were saying was the funniest joke they had ever told, which you prayed was the case. The stranger looked almost  _ determined _ to follow through with their promises, the thought of becoming an empty vessel plaguing his mind. From what the witches were saying, you had determined that his missing sword, the  _ Schattenmeister _ , was the only way how he could save himself from their game...but what made it unfair was that he couldn’t see it.

“Now…” you saw Koume smile at you with blackened and broken teeth, like old tombstones, “don’t think we forgot about you, whore.”

“Those markings on your wrists and ankles determine how much time you have left in this world-”

“-And the only way to stop them is by helping him,” she jabbed a finger over at the stranger, “achieve his deepest desire.” 

“Look at how pretty they are! Now you won’t look so  _ basic _ !” Your vision traveled to the deep blue markings that had nestled themselves into your skin and glowed prettily in the darkness of your room. The rain had ended many minutes ago, but the clouds remained to shield any form of light from your home.

Your hands were shaking (or maybe it was your head from the movement of your chattering jaw?) and your chest heaved painfully in a sad attempt to draw in the thinning air. Your sight darkened with each passing moment…

Koume threw one hand on your right shoulder. “So do well to find his sword.”

Kotake relaxed herself on your left. “Or he will be lost to the world, and so will you.”

They waved their hands over the stranger, his body disappearing in a matter of moments.

“Just keep in mind that he has quite the temper…”

“So if those markings don’t kill you first, he probably will!”

“At least you can live the rest of your days knowing how we helped you to become more beautiful.”

“But beauty can be a deadly poison…” 

And with that, you fell into a world of dreams.


End file.
